Now that Wellington is but a distant memory, I feel myself reflecting on it in an almost fond manner. I look upon the last six months as an emotional rollercoaster, basically.

The first 3 months were hell, no doubt about it. I felt like I was going mad every single day. I was so focused on my problems I could barely distract myself at all to study, and I slipped behind. I dramatized everything, as most depressed people do, as in “My life is never going to get better and everything right now is horrible and why the hell am I bothering to keep living?!” (Except with me there are more swear words thrown in). This was followed by a euphoric high, which was usually hugely productive for me, and ironically always around the time I had to talk to my counsellor. And then back into the depths of hell I would go.

July, August, and September were definitely the better of the 6 months I spent there. I discovered energy healing, and started applying it to my shattered life. I felt better, and started getting out more and making friends. I spent this time exploring Wellington, recognizing its beauty and truly living in the present! Then not far into July we decided to move home, and then the time flew by. Towards the end though, I felt more and more relief at the thought of being safe again.

Here I am now. I have fond memories of driving around the bays of Wellington with my mother and her boyfriend, laughing hysterically, growing, walking through the beautiful Central Park, admiring, and dreaming.

I do feel like I have wasted a year, as far as productivity goes. But I have learnt so much about myself that I know will be helpful again one day. As of right now, I feel alive, free, and amazing again. I have hope.

La vie est belle. La vita è bella. Life is beautiful.


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